Butterfly's Wings
by Blossomwitch
Summary: It takes time to realize all the repercussions after something terrible happens. Nearly a year later, the group is finally coming to realize that things won't stay the same. YK. I realize this summary is deplorably vague, but it's necessary.
1. Chapter 1

Before we start...

(Red Flags Waving) I know it's considered common courtesy in fanfic to warn your readers about certain situations or plot devices that might prove disturbing. But if I were to list all the warnings for this story, there wouldn't be much point to reading it. You can handle it, right? Right? Okay then...

_**Butterfly's Wings**_

_Chapter One_

Everything, and everyone, was interrelated. If you had a group, then you had a group dynamic. It was an undeniable part of life. If you altered one aspect of the group--say if one person's behavior changed slightly--then everyone else in the group would change slightly in response. If the change was more important, then the response would be accordingly stronger; if more than one person changed, if a relationship was removed, then the group would shudder like an earthquake had it. And when the aftershocks had subsided, you would look around and discover that everything in the group--positions, interactions, relationships--had changed. Everyone and everything was interrelated, and a butterfly's wings could cause a hurricane.

And when the change was something so much more than a butterfly's wings, didn't it make some sort of sense that the reaction to it was inverted? Subtler, slower, but still there. She had been blind to think things would stay the same.

These were Keiko's thoughts in the silence after she accused the man she had loved most of her life of not loving her. This was one of the changes in Yusuke, that he didn't answer right away. In the past he might have babbled or yelled or even sworn at her, but he wouldn't have done this--waited to make sure she was done speaking, measured her words, thought about his own response. Most people said he had matured, that the new Yusuke was more responsible and able to think things out, see implications. Keiko was certain, if this was the case, that she wanted the old immature Yusuke back. The one who had been able to love her more than anything, and still have enough time and energy left over for everything else he needed to do; the one who had always come back to her at the end of the mission. She would trade this new, thoughtful Yusuke in for the old annoying one any day.

And when he finally did answer her, it wasn't worth the wait. "I love you, Keiko." Quiet, resigned, his voice as far away as he was, and he thought she would settle for that.

She almost balled her fists up in frustration. "But?"

He looked at her, startled. "There's no but. I love you. I don't know why you think I don't."

He wasn't a liar, so Keiko tried to force herself to calm down and think rationally. He said he loved her--so why did it not feel right? Of course, nothing had felt really right since _it_ happened...

No, that wasn't true. Things had started to mend. Of course everybody was still shaken, still hurt, but Keiko had seen signs of normalcy. Shizuru was almost back to her old self, and Botan too, and Yukina sang to birds again even if it was mostly sad songs. The fractures were healing--but the alignment of the bones was different, and Keiko didn't like it.

"Why haven't we talked about getting married?" she asked slowly.

"Because a lot of shit happened, Keiko." She didn't like the tone he was taking, exasperated and patronizing at the same time. "Because there've been things I had to do."

"It's been a year."

There was something cold in Keiko's voice, cold and just a bit angry, that surprised both of them--and just like that, a line had been drawn. Yusuke's eyes narrowed slightly. "Ten months."

"A long time. You have to go on with your life."

"I _am_ going on with my life."

"But your life is supposed to be with _me_. Not--"

Yusuke didn't say anything, but the sudden anger that blazed to life in his eyes made Keiko afraid, afraid to even finish her sentence. It was the second line, drawn between them. Realizing what she had been about to say--what she had never said--everything suddenly became clear to Keiko, like a lens sliding into focus. What precisely it was that was bothering her, and what had to change. What she had to ask.

Yusuke controlled himself before he spoke. Swallowing his anger, smothering it--he would not yell, not make a fist, not even glare. He had trained himself not to. "My life," he said, his voice tight and even, "is mine to live how I choose. I spend a lot of it with you, but--there's been other things, other things I have to--I'm trying to be responsible, alright? I don't see how you can have a problem with that."

"The problem, Yusuke, is that you're not really with me anymore."

"Keiko, I love you, and you love me, but you don't _need_ me."

There was silence for a moment. Keiko didn't try to argue with Yusuke's statement; she did need him, she had always needed him, but she knew what he was talking about and knew that her needs paled in comparison. "But--I'm going to be your wife," she said, tentatively.

"Yes," Yusuke said, just as tentatively. Neither of them at all certain.

"Then my needs, whatever they are, have to come first. I have to be the most important person in your life."

"Keiko, you've _always_ known this about me. You've always known that there were things I had to do, and you used to accept that."

"Back when it was saving the world, Yusuke! It's not saving the world anymore. And I deserve to be first."

"But you don't need me as much as..."

Keiko turned her back to him, so he wouldn't see the tears that sprang to her eyes. "And you don't love me as much, do you?"

"...Keiko, I--"

"You have to choose."

Yusuke was silent, but she could sense his shock. She was almost shocked herself. "You have to choose," she repeated. "It's not going to work both ways."

"...Why can't I just care about you both, and want--"

"No, Yusuke. I've waited a long time for you. I deserve to be the first priority in my partner's life, and if you're never going to do that for me then we need to take a step back from each other." She was amazed that her voice held steady.

Contrary to her words, Yusuke took a few steps toward her, but did not try to make her face him. "Keiko... you know what happened." His voice was low, asking for understanding.

Keiko pressed the corners of her eyes, the sharp pain chasing the tears away. Part of her wanted to understand. But instead, her voice oddly calm, she said, "It's been ten months, Yusuke. And instead of coming back to me, you're growing further away. I'm not going to spend my entire life waiting for you. You have to choose, and you have to do it soon."

More silence. Keiko turned just enough to glance at Yusuke, and felt a stab of guilt at the tension radiating from him, the slight hunch to his shoulders. Almost she was tempted to take it back--almost. But she remembered the reservation to his tone when he had said _I love you_, and instead she said, "Don't tell me now. Take some time before you decide."

Yusuke stood without speaking for a moment longer, and then he moved away from the counter he'd been leaning against, towards the door. "How long?"

How long was long enough to decide something like this? How long would he need? "A few days," she said tentatively.

She didn't watch him leave, but she heard the door open and close. She took a few deep, deliberate breaths, carefully not crying. She knew exactly where he was going.

_tbc _


	2. Chapter 2

_Note: The rest of the story is milder, but this chapter probably ventures over into M rating for language and general angst. _

Chapter 2

(_Flashback: ten months ago)_

There were people, many of them, at her son's wake that Reina did not recognize. It did not surprise her. She had always known there were things Kazuma kept secret from her, and from her husband--though most of the strangers seemed to know Shizuru, and bowed respectfully before her.

Reina felt a distant curiosity about this, but no more than that. Sitting here, at the wake for her only son, she could hardly feel anything. There was no grief, no anger--nothing. She could only observe, numbly, and know that when the shock wore off--when she really believed he was dead--there would be many things she was curious about. The boy with the pupil-less blue eyes, for example, or his friend that was concealing something in his hair--and there were others that were more explainable, like the man with the mohawk and tribal markings and all the girls with strange hair colors, but they all seemed to know each other.

And Shizuru--and Yusuke. Many of them bowed to him, too, and asked him something--another name besides her son's, expressions of sorrow, hesitant inquiries as to whether there would be another wake. Yusuke never met their eyes as he gave the same answer, over and over, angry and subdued--someone was taking the body to someone else (Reina never recognized either name), and she would probably burn him, and no, there wouldn't be a wake, he hadn't wanted one.

Half-conscious as she was, it took several repetitions of this conversation for Reina to realize that Yusuke must have been close to the other boy who had died, too, and that's who they were talking about. There had been three boys present when the gas main exploded--or at least they told Reina it was a gas explosion, no one seemed to know anything more than that--but one of the boys had survived, and Reina wasn't sure how one person walked away from an explosion that killed two others, but she didn't care. Didn't care any more than she cared why they were lying about the explosion, didn't care about meeting the boy who'd walked away or the family of the other one who had died. Her son was dead, and it didn't even disturb her how little she thought or cared about anything these days.

So it was with a lack of attachment that she noticed the hush, the tension, that suddenly fell over everyone--no, not everyone, just the strangers who were so strange--when somebody came into the room. It was a boy she halfway recognized, a friend of Kazuma's with startling red hair and a quiet demeanor, but she couldn't remember his name. His head was bowed so that his face was not visible; he seemed oblivious to the tension his entrance had caused, seemed not to notice that half the room was looking at him. He walked quickly to the coffin, without speaking or looking at anyone, and knelt trembling before it. And there he stayed--shaking, crying maybe, and otherwise immobile.

The moment stretched, and stretched, and the tension didn't dissipate. Reina felt something to her side, and turned to look--and saw Yusuke staring at the boy, his eyes fixed, his expression unreadable. Unreadable, but such that she looked away from it quickly, frightened. A small girl with blue-green hair and sorrowful eyes had quietly come forward and lightly touched the arm of the boy kneeling at the coffin, saying something in a soft voice. The boy let her help him to his feet, struggling like he was ill or exhausted, and Reina caught a glimpse of his face--tear-streaked, but as dead to emotion as her own must be. He allowed the girl to start leading him away.

Then Reina became aware of a commotion to her left, and looked back over to find Yusuke's expression had changed--rage was painted across his face, blazing from it, and his girlfriend was hanging off one arm and Shizuru was standing in front of him, saying something quietly but angrily. Both of them were trying to keep him from moving, but Yusuke's murderous look was fixed past them, on the redhead, and their efforts were quickly coming to nothing. "Yusuke, it's not his fault," she heard Keiko say pleadingly.

"Get off of me. Let me get at him," Yusuke snarled, not quietly, and nobody could fail to be aware of what was going on now. The redhead didn't look at Yusuke once, although the girl next to him looked petrified, glancing back and forth between the two--he just kept moving away at the same slow, stumbling pace. And all the people Reina had identified as strange, unknown, were now converging on Yusuke, trying to calm him, or restrain him--and Yusuke only became angrier and wilder, throwing punches and pushing them out of his way. An elderly woman had planted herself squarely in his path and was saying, "Don't punish him, you idiot," but Yusuke knocked her over, and pushed the little girl with the blue-green hair into the wall so hard Reina heard her breath hitch, and then he had the redhead.

"What did you do?" he screamed, shaking the other boy so hard his neck could have snapped. "Why did you do it? Listen to me!" The redhead only turned his face to the side. "I know what you did, don't even try to hide it from me, just tell me how!"

There was a small, stinging moment of silence in which Yusuke waited for an answer that didn't come. The redhead looked ill, like he was barely aware of where he was or how hard he was being shaken. He might have mumbled Yusuke's name once, but it was so faint Reina wasn't sure. Yusuke grabbed the other boy's chin in one hand, forcing the redhead to look at him for the first time, and demanded, "Is it poison? Your plants?"

No answer--but in the stillness, the redhead suddenly fainted, and would have hit the ground if Yusuke hadn't caught him. "Genkai!" Yusuke called, his voice desperate, and Reina's perception of events--the boy's stumbling gait, Yusuke's fury at him--suddenly shifted.

The elderly woman snapped at Yusuke to carry the boy into the kitchen; a handful of people followed, a few of the strangers and the old woman and Keiko and Shizuru, and Reina herself, because it was her house. Yusuke had lain the boy on the table and was now moving quickly, searching his torso for injury, touching his wrist to find a pulse and then narrowing his eyes, ripping the fabric of his sleeves away.

Black doesn't show blood. Everyone gasped when they saw the mutilation, the precision cuts, on the inside of his wrist--everyone but Reina, who still couldn't make herself truly care, and the old woman, who instantly grabbed both wrists and pressed down hard, and Yusuke. Yusuke didn't show any shock, he just started screaming again. "Goddammit, Kurama, do I have to lose everybody at once? Is that your plan? Don't you know I'm not angry at you, you asshole? It wasn't your fucking fault!"

The whole room was quailing from his fury--more agony than Reina had heard in a human voice before--but the old woman, she only shot him a furious a glance of her own and yelled, "Yusuke, if you can't shut the hell up then say something encouraging! If I was Kurama, I would die just to get away from being screamed at like that!"

"Shut up and fix him, you old hag!"

"What do you think I'm doing?"

After that--silence. Sudden, complete, deafening. Reina wondered why nobody had called for an ambulance, but didn't make the connection that she might call for one herself. Everyone was staring, silent and tense, at the old woman with her hands pressed against the boy's wrists. "What happened?" the girl who had been trying to take him from the room finally whispered, her voice loud and harsh in the taut silence.

Yusuke's girlfriend was hugging the girl tightly as they watched; she answered as softly and gently as she could, but her voice carried in the stillness. "Kurama cut the veins in his wrists so he would bleed to death."

"Why would Kurama do such a thing?" The girl sounded horrified, like she had never heard of suicide.

"Because he feels responsible for Kuwabara and Hiei being killed," Keiko replied in the same soft tone.

"Shut up." Yusuke's voice was brittle and loud in comparison to the soothing tone Keiko had used, and he spoke rapidly. "Kurama can't help the way it happened, he's fucking brilliant, of course he could survive something that the rest of us couldn't. He didn't know. I would have died too if I'd been there so just shut up."

"I didn't say it was his fault," Keiko said wearily.

"Maybe... maybe he wanted us to help him," the girl with the blue-green hair suggested hopefully. "Maybe he wanted us to find out and help..."

"No, the damn fool just took too long trying to say goodbye to Kuwabara." Reina noted with some surprise that although Yusuke was not breathing rapidly and his voice was not constricted, tears were streaming down his face, almost independent of anything else. "He would never make a huge scene like this. He was probably in such a fucking hurry to hurt himself he did it before he even took him to Mukuro; he was just going to go home and bleed to death."

"But he didn't," the old woman said, with an air of finality. "You stopped him. And he'll be alright." She took her hands away from his wrists, and there were no wounds. Just scars.

There was another silence. Then, angrily, Yusuke said, "Well, get out of here. There's nothing to see."

Most people reacted to the anger in his tone and quickly left, but the old woman stayed, and Shizuru. And Reina, because in spite of herself she was curious as to what the old woman had done. Yusuke didn't seem to notice these three, or if he did he didn't care. He touched one of the scars lightly, and Reina couldn't read his expression. "You're the only one whose angry at you," he said, his voice finally quiet. "But you're the only one whose anger at you matters. Dammit, Kurama..." The rest of the sentence was choked off.

"He could use a friend," the old woman said simply, quietly, from the sink where she was washing the blood from her hands.

Yusuke nodded slowly, his gaze never leaving the other boy. The only sound or movement for a minute was the water running; then Yusuke stood and gently gathered the redhead's limp body into his arms, holding him with the same care he would cradle a newborn. Before he could look around Shizuru had stepped forward to nod him up the stairs, to wordlessly say it was okay. There were tears on her face, too, that Reina had not noticed fall. Yusuke went past without looking at any of them and slowly went up the stairs, his movements carefully gentle, his shoulders hunched slightly with his burden.

Shizuru looked like she was considering following them for a moment but thought better of it. She went into the living room, and so did the old woman. Reina followed her--and then the old woman turned and looked at her, silently looked her in the eyes, and Reina decided not to ask what she had done to the boy. She just went back to her place against the wall and watched the blue-green haired girl wiping her eyes while she helped Keiko pick up what looked like marbles that had spilled all around them, and glanced away from that to be shocked again by a glance of that boy with no pupils to his eyes, and glanced away again to see another blue-haired girl leaning hard against a man who seemed to have a tattoo on his forehead. She closed her eyes.

There were strange things in her son's death, and life, that she would never understand; never try to. She would forget that the old woman had somehow saved the boy's life, just as she had forgotten other things over the years. She did not want to know.


	3. Chapter 3

(A/N: I know this is a long chapter, but bear with me. I had a lot of exposition to get through!)

_Chapter Three_

_(Flashback: ten months ago)_

_"I can't let you stay with him." Yusuke didn't look at the girls as he spoke, but fixed his gaze on the ground. His voice was subdued. "Don't you understand? Someone stronger than him needs to be here--none of you could stop him if he decided to kill somebody, and that includes himself."_

_"Then get somebody strong to help you," Keiko replied. "You can't watch him twenty four hours a day."_

_"So I should just invite random people into his apartment while he's hurting like this? I'm not going to force him to--I mean, people have offered to, but--"_

_"Yusuke, please listen. You'll get tired, you won't be able to help him if you burn yourself out--"_

_"I won't leave him with anyone weaker than him, and I won't leave him with anyone he doesn't respect. The only person I can think of other than me who fits both requirements is dead, and his death is half the reason Kurama's like this in the first place. Don't any of you understand? I can't leave him. Not yet."_

_"But--"_

_"No."_

(Present)

As Keiko had anticipated, Yusuke went straight to Kurama's apartment.

He let himself in without knocking. He knew that Kurama often went to bed early, and that even if Kurama was awake he wouldn't mind. Since the suicide attempt, and the ensuing weeks in which Yusuke had quite literally not let Kurama out of his sight, they had not maintained any boundaries of privacy or personal space with each other.

Which was why when Yusuke found Kurama was, in fact, already asleep in bed, he had no qualms about settling down next to him. First, though, he flipped off the reading lamp and removed the book lying open on Kurama's chest. Kurama's hands were still holding it lightly and Yusuke moved them to his sides as gently as he could, feeling as he did so the rough scars on his wrists that Genkai had not been able to eradicate. He also noticed newer cuts, already fading, on Kurama's arm and felt his facial muscles tighten slightly in response. Genkai had been quick to tell him, when she found out about it, that hurting yourself was a choice as much as anything else was, and while Yusuke could be supportive and helpful in the end he couldn't hold himself responsible for what Kurama _chose_ to do. Occasionally Yusuke believed her.

Yusuke lay down over the covers on what he thought of as "his" side of the bed, but he didn't try to sleep. Instead he leaned on one elbow, propping his head up, and looked at Kurama, wondering idle things. Like--was it the shock of his red hair that made Kurama's skin look so white, or was he genuinely pale? Had he always been this pale, or was it recent? Did it matter, or was he just trying to avoid thinking about Keiko?

_If someone asks you to pick between them and someone else, it's usually a pretty good indication you should pick the someone else._ Keiko herself had told him that, years ago. But it wasn't that clear cut. Keiko wasn't being unreasonable; she never was. She had given Yusuke time, she had always given him time when he needed it. But it had been nearly a year. It was just more waiting. And she didn't want to wait forever.

He didn't want her to wait forever either. He remembered saying that, the afternoon when he'd just come back from Makai. That was before the barrier had gone back up, before the new round of demon invasions had cost his friends' lives. When they'd thought they were done fighting, that everything would be okay. Yusuke felt a small smile spread across his face. That day was still crystal clear in his memory, unspoiled by later events. Kurama and Shizuru watching with detached, adult amusement while the rest of them ran like children in the surf, splashing each other, and Kuwabara was hunting shells and sea creatures to impress the ever-oblivious Yukina...

_What a dork, _Yusuke thought, with no little affection and only a small twinge of grief. He'd come to terms with the loss a long time ago. He had even seen Hiei and Kuwabara once since their deaths, and gotten a chance to say goodbye--though he was not under the illusion, then or now, that he had been the reason for their visit. Koenma didn't allow such things very often, not even for ex-spirit detectives; but Kurama's attempt at suicide had frightened him badly, and he had decided the best way to prevent a repeat performance was to send Hiei and Kuwabara back to talk or bully some sense into the fox.

Hiei had taken to the second part of that charge admirably. Yusuke didn't understand what part of their inscrutable bond it was that allowed Hiei to scream his lungs out at Kurama and provoke nothing but a small, genuine smile, but he was grateful for it. Kuwabara, wisely staying out of the way and enjoying the fireworks, had told Yusuke he'd never seen anyone so furious as Hiei when they found out about Kurama's latest brush with death. Yusuke could believe it. But the brutal verbal abuse and the dire threats about how many centuries it had just _better_ be before they saw each other again seemed to soothe Kurama, and when Hiei successfully extracted a reluctant promise not to attempt any such act of stupidity again, Yusuke had to admit he knew what he was doing.

Which made it all the more difficult to say goodbye to them. Yusuke had to fight hard not to break down and beg them to stay, both of them, help him with Kurama. He couldn't do it alone. And yet, in a way he knew he could--because he knew if either Hiei or Kuwabara had thought their further presence would have been the slightest help, they would have defied Koenma and refused to return. The message of their absence was clear: this was the last help they could give him, and it was now Yusuke's place to support Kurama, to help him move on. And to move on himself.

He'd done better on the second part than the first. There was no way to measure how much seeing his friends had helped Yusuke, knowing that they were in good humor and essentially unchanged--still snapping and bickering with each other and secretly enjoying every minute of it. Koenma later told Yusuke that, in accordance with individually made requests--all the while vehemently denying it to each other's faces--Kuwabara and Hiei had been sent to the same realm of the afterlife. Koenma had also made it clear that Yusuke and Kurama could go there if they chose, when the time came. The knowledge that he would see them again for more than a brief visit helped Yusuke cope--provided, of course, that they hadn't killed each other by then. Even already dead, Yusuke wouldn't put it past them to find a way.

His soft smile of reminiscence faded as his eyes focused on Kurama's face again. He _was_ paler, Yusuke decided; and thinner, too. Yusuke had spent the last year doing whatever was in his power to be everything in the world to Kurama--and it wasn't enough, it never would be, but that didn't mean he could stop. He should have realized long ago that he couldn't manage to be what both Kurama and Keiko needed; that eventually, his relationship with at least one of them would have to undergo a drastic change. Was it really as simple as choosing between them? He could never do that. There had to be something that would tell him what he should do.

It wasn't a matter of who needed him the most. If that was supposed to be the deciding factor, then Yusuke could have answered Keiko on the spot. He wasn't sure why, but his opinion of Kurama's innocence in the deaths of their teammates seemed to be the only one Kurama cared about. Kurama had told him more than once that he needed Yusuke's forgiveness, his absolution, and Yusuke would reply--for being alive? And Kurama would say yes. And Yusuke would say he didn't understand, and Kurama would tell him to forget it. But he couldn't.

Keiko didn't understand what she was asking him to do. How could she? Everyone else thought Kurama had pulled himself back together, that he was only a little quieter, a little more fragile, than before. Even Genkai, who usually saw through such things, commented that he was doing alright. Kurama lied and evaded and hid from everyone else, even his family, and Yusuke was the only one allowed to see how these two deaths had finally been the ones to break him. Consequently, Yusuke was the only one who could help him. Kurama needed Yusuke's strength, his presence, and he needed them desperately. There was no way in hell Yusuke could back away from him.

But Kurama wouldn't want Yusuke to sacrifice his own happiness, either. Kurama was the one who forbid Yusuke to spend every night at Kurama's apartment; the one who reminded him to go out without Kurama every so often; the one who, when Yusuke answered the phone, always asked if Yusuke was busy before he would say why he'd called. Yusuke always replied that he wasn't busy, whether it was true or not. He was terrified of missing a call that would be important.

And Keiko had been so understanding of such interruptions at first. Understanding when the phone rang six or eight times a day and Yusuke abandoned whatever they had been doing to answer it. Understanding when Kurama would have panic attacks, shaking or starting to hyperventilate when Yusuke got ready to leave, and Yusuke would call her and say he wouldn't be coming over that night. Understanding when it happened the other way, too, when it was Yusuke who would be seized with choking terror and a sudden uncontrollable need to find Kurama, to touch him and be reassured that the fox was alive and well. Yusuke was willing to admit, at least to himself, that his own injuries ran deeper than he let most people see. Deeper, perhaps, than could be explained--but they had been a group of four, and then suddenly two had been gone and the only one left, the only survivor from the group he had loved in a way he couldn't explain, was half-dead with grief and standing with one foot over the edge and damned if Yusuke wouldn't do anything, anything, _everything, _to pull him back.

It had been easy to ignore that he and Keiko weren't seeing each other much, at least at first. Keiko had spent a lot of time at the library, researching grief and survivor's guilt, and when what she told Yusuke seemed to help he confided in her in about Kurama's cutting and she'd researched that with the same ruthless efficiency. They spent a lot of time talking about the people they were trying to help. The difference was that Keiko was trying to help everyone, including herself and Yusuke, manage their grief; Yusuke was concerned with Kurama, and Kurama alone.

She had probably been jealous of him for months before Yusuke had realized it. And it had been a long time since he'd realized it.

But none of this told Yusuke what to do. The circumstances were shitty, but they were what they were. Why had Keiko told him to take time to think about it? There was no thinking through this, no making it into anything other than a sorrowful and slightly impossible situation. He couldn't create reason from it, couldn't simply evaluate the pros and cons. There was no quick answer.

Which meant--he would have to rely on instinct. Have to decide on what he felt, what he guessed, even what he wanted. His own wants were so rarely a factor in his decisions lately that he didn't know what they were.

A voice, soft and gentle, interrupted his train of thought. "Something happen?"

Yusuke refocused his eyes and found a pair of green ones blinking sleepily at him. "Didn't mean to wake you up."

"I'm not certain you did. I feel a little blurry, like I'm still asleep. But if I'm not dreaming it, you look sad."

"Just thinking."

Kurama looked at Yusuke for a moment, wordlessly inviting him to speak about what was troubling him. When Yusuke remained silent, Kurama turned onto his side and closed his eyes again. "I know it's too early to really be in bed, you can watch TV or something if you like," he murmured, not questioning Yusuke's presence in his apartment. "I just couldn't keep my eyes open."

Yusuke brushed his fingertips over the new marks on Kurama's forearm, and kept his voice light. "Hey, fox-boy, when'd you do this?"

"This afternoon," Kurama replied indifferently, without turning back to face him. The cuts looked nearly healed, but Yusuke believed Kurama about the time frame; after watching the fox walk home an hour after Hiei's sword had gone clean through him, no feat of healing had since surprised Yusuke.

"Why didn't you call me?" Yusuke kept the same lightness to his tone, trying to give the impression that he had barely noticed, didn't really care, and most of all was not accusing Kurama of anything. He had learned that if he became angry, Kurama wouldn't call as often.

This time, Kurama turned to face him before answering. "Because you would have made me stop."

He gave Yusuke a rueful smile as he said it, unafraid to meet his eyes, gentle and self-deprecating and unashamed. Yusuke brushed his arm lightly again, wishing he could just as easily brush away the marks and the hurt that had caused them. Kurama's smile gentled even further--a sympathetic _yes, I know, but that's how it is._ Yusuke felt his own facial muscles tense slightly, and with the tension came a surge of emotion he couldn't name--but nonetheless he knew, without words, that this was the quick answer he had been looking for.

"Yusuke?" Kurama said, looking at him with concern again.

Softly, Yusuke said, "Keiko and I broke up."


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Okay, a short chapter this time, to balance out the long one before it. :)

Chapter Four

_(Flashback: eight months ago)_

_It was always quiet in graveyards. No matter how many people you could see kneeling over other tombstones, talking to each other or the earth or the sky, an isolation existed between each group that flooded the air with a profound silence. Even the noise of birds and squirrels was subdued._

_Kurama didn't seem upset, but neither did he seem to be experiencing any other emotion. Just the same introversion, the slightly pained withdrawal, that was always present in his eyes. It hadn't been his idea to come here, but neither had he objected. This complacence--it was new, and at first it had been a relief after the fierce, pained battles over life and death. But Yusuke was starting to dread it more than the battles. There were more kinds of death than just one, and the gaping holes where choice and response and reaction should have been told Yusuke that they were still fighting, and he was losing._

_So he'd asked Kurama to come up here, to visit the grave, for the first time. Thinking it would provoke a response. Instead, Kurama stood there as listless as ever, blinking slightly and saying nothing, no sign of emotion in his face and eyes. Was it really gone, or could Yusuke just not see it?_

_He didn't know until Kurama turned, suddenly, and without speaking walked into the woods. Yusuke followed; Kurama made no attempt to speed up and escape him, or to slow down and let him catch up. So Yusuke remained four paces behind him as they walked, downhill away from the temple, all the way down to the beach where Kurama sat down facing the ocean, knees pulled up to his chest, staring silently at the waves. Yusuke sat down next to him. And there they stayed, silent, until the tide began to nip at their toes--and even then, it was Yusuke who spoke, suggested that they go. Kurama stood as soon as Yusuke asked him to, but Yusuke had the strong impression that if no one had told him to get up he would have sat there, unmoving, until he drowned. _

(Present)

"Keiko and I broke up," Yusuke said softly. It was only as he said the words that he realized the were true--that they had been true for the moment Keiko told him to choose.

Kurama's face took on an expression indicating this news was just slightly short of the end of the world. "You what?"

"We broke up," Yusuke repeated. "It's okay." He added the second part just to reassure Kurama, who still looked alarmed, but again found himself realizing as he spoke that it was true. It was, or would be, okay. "We've been growing apart. This was a long time coming." And another thing that was true--apparently, if Kurama had been awake for him to explain things to when he first arrived he could have spared himself a lot of soul-searching.

"But--you love her." Kurama's expression was slightly guarded as he spoke, something rare between them these days.

"Yeah, I did, once. I still do in a way. But not the way she wants me to. She deserves someone who can put her first," he added, echoing her words.

"You can do that." Kurama's voice was stern.

Yusuke shook his head, realizing where this was heading. "No."

"Yusuke, I--"

_"No_, Kurama." Guilt, an emotion Yusuke was finely tuned to in Kurama, was forming in his eyes. "No. I know what you're thinking and I won't let you think it. This was about me."

"About how much time you spend with me, you mean."

"About how I've changed and she's changed since it happened. I guess it was pretty stupid of us to think everything would stay the same--that is, I guess she doesn't like the person I've become."

For a moment Kurama looked like he was going to keep arguing, but he didn't. He just looked at Yusuke with an unreadable expression for a long moment, and finally spoke quietly. "Well, in that case, I don't know what she's looking at. It can't be you."

Yusuke appreciated the vote of confidence, but what he appreciated much more was that this time, when Kurama lay back down, he did it facing Yusuke and with one hand extended slightly, palm up. It was an invitation that Yusuke immediately and gratefully accepted, lying down next to him and almost seizing the proffered hand. After _it_had happened Yusuke had developed the need, sometimes crippling, to be in physical contact with Kurama--like the only way to reassure himself that Kurama was still there, still alright, was to touch him. They had gotten into physical fights those first, bad months--Yusuke in the grip of panic attacks, blind to protest, wanting to anchor Kurama physically to this world; Kurama still detached from his body in wanting death so badly, wanting nothing more than to be left alone; and then Yusuke terrified that the fox was suicidal, not allowing him to leave, physically pinning him sometimes. The memories tasted sour, but the need had never gone away. Yusuke had learned to control it, learned that sometimes Kurama just didn't want to be touched, but he was always grateful when Kurama gave him some indication it was alright. He held Kurama's hand in both of his.

After a moment or two Kurama shifted onto his back and guided Yusuke's head to rest against his shoulder. Yusuke knew Kurama thought he was upset, horribly upset, about Keiko, and he felt a little guilty for taking advantage of that. But not guilty enough to speak up. It wasn't unusual for them to lie like this, anyway; another part of_their world_ that was different from _the world_, formed during _those months._ Yusuke was well aware that most straight guys wouldn't be caught dead lying this close to a male friend--knew, even, that Keiko would have been upset had she known--but none of that had mattered when he was still afraid for Kurama's life. And then it had never really started to matter again.

So Yusuke lay there, content and slightly guilty at his contentment. He should feel terrible. But he felt... relieved. Guilty, yes, but mostly the giddy liberation that came with the removal of a dead weight. Yusuke had learned over the years to trust his emotional reactions, so while he did indulge in the guilt, he knew this was a sign he'd done the right thing.

He lay there for a full five or ten minutes, relaxed, before realizing something wasn't right. "Did I put on weight or something?"

"Hm?"

"You're not breathing very well. And I know it's not because I'm too heavy for you. Are you sick?"

"I'm fine."

The listless tone Kurama used was a red alert to Yusuke, and without further ado he propped himself with one elbow to lay a hand on Kurama's forehead. He frowned. "Damn--fox, you're burning up." This happened frequently these days. "When are you going to start taking care of yourself?"

Kurama smiled that rueful, unapologetic smile again. "Why should I? You seem to do a pretty good job of it."

"So when were you planning on calling me? Who's going to make you chicken soup, those bums next door?"

Kurama smiled faintly. "I don't think I need chicken soup."

"Everybody needs chicken soup," Yusuke insisted. "And you need chicken soup and plenty to drink and maybe an aspirin. And your rest, so go back to sleep."

"I'm not tired anymore."

"Well, that really sucks for you. Because I am lying on top of you and have a stranglehold to keep you here in bed, away from your books. And furthermore I'm done talking to you. So unless you want to stare at the ceiling, I suggest you sleep."

"Yusuke, has anyone ever told you how impossible you are?"

"This one fox I know. Repeatedly."

"He's right about that."

"Goodnight, Kurama."

Kurama shoved him, lightly. "Goodnight."

Yusuke used the momentum of the shove to roll off the bed, and then prowled around the room looking for some of his own clothes--there were always some scattered around Kurama's place--that would serve as pajamas. Unselfconsciously he changed clothes where he stood, then crawled back into bed and wrestled his share of the covers away from Kurama--who would invariably have them all back by daybreak, wrapped securely around himself, no matter what Yusuke did. True to his word, Yusuke did not make any further conversation, but he waited until Kurama fell asleep and he could see for himself that the kitsune was breathing evenly and easily before allowing himself to close his eyes.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five_  
_

_(Flashback: six months ago)_

_They had gone to the roof of Kurama's apartment. They could just barely see the fireworks from there, being shot off at the center of the city to celebrate the new year. Neither of them had felt like going out and being part of a crowd tonight. A disastrous evening the week before had convinced Yusuke of Kurama's repeated claims that he wasn't ready to go out yet; as for Yusuke, he had planned to attend a party with Keiko, but a confusing rush of conflicting emotions had put an end to that plan quickly. He had told Keiko that Kurama had asked for his company, and told Kurama that he didn't like the people hosting the party Keiko was determined to go to. Neither had questioned him._

_Now he was standing behind Kurama with his arms wrapped around his waist, for no particular reason other than that it felt good to hold him. Kurama's arms lay lightly over his, and more than once while the fireworks went off Yusuke lightly stroked the wrist that had snapped earlier today, silently apologizing over and over again. He, of all people, ought to understand how far from health Kurama was; he ought to have known better than to try and wrestle like they used to. Kurama had not even shown a reaction to the pain--Yusuke was convinced he had only set and healed the bone to assuage Yusuke's feelings, not his own. It was getting harder and harder to persuade the fox to heal his own injuries._

_The fireworks were nearly over before Yusuke realized it _was_ the new year, after all, and hesitated briefly before pressing a quick kiss to Kurama's cheek. "Well, happy new year. It's got to be better than the old one."_

_"Careful," Kurama said mildly. "You'll tempt fate."_

_"I_defy_ fate to make this one worse."_

_Kurama turned his head sharply, like he intended to reprimand him, and Yusuke refused to back away because he hadn't done anything to deserve it. Then, suddenly, their lips were an inch away from each other, and they froze. And then Kurama turned forward again, silently, and Yusuke forced down a rush of new and bewildering emotions that he did _not_ want to deal with. The awkwardness would disappear by tomorrow--it always did._

_But there was still something wistful in Kurama's tone as he offered a belated, "Happy new year, Yusuke," in return._

(Present)

Yusuke earned Kurama's wrath the next morning by turning off his alarm clock exactly ten minutes before it would have woken him. By the time Kurama woke up naturally it was a quarter to noon and he'd missed all but one of his classes. Yusuke refused to rise to the bait and simply explained, calmly and repeatedly, that he'd woken up, seen that Kurama was still feverish and wouldn't be in any shape to go to school, and decided to let him sleep in. Kurama's anger burned itself out quickly, and he conceded to Yusuke's point that the damage was already done so he might as well rest, and be ready for school again on Monday.

The day passed slowly and sedately. Most of it was spent with them curled up on opposite ends of the couch, Yusuke idly flipping channels and Kurama dutifully reading his textbooks. Sometimes, Yusuke had to admit to a weird feeling of--jealousy, almost--concerning the time Kurama spent on school. It was almost like he resented the parts of Kurama's life that didn't revolve around him, but he knew that was pretty messed up so he didn't say anything. He knew, too, that it was a good thing that Kurama had gone back to school this semester. Even if he'd only done it to please Shiori, it was a sign of interest in living--a sign that Kurama had adroitly pointed out a time or two that Yusuke seemed to have no intention of echoing.

But why should he? He had inherited Raizen's personal fortune and had no need for a job, and school wasn't even worth mentioning. It wasn't that he refused to move on with his life; he just didn't have a need for either of those things.

The day wore on without either of them expecting that Yusuke would leave at some point; it was clear to both that Kurama was genuinely sick, and equally clear that Yusuke would act like he lived there until he thought Kurama was better. It seemed to Yusuke that Kurama got sick an awful lot these days, since _it_ happened. He didn't know how to begin to make him take better care of himself; he could barely convince him to heal himself when it was serious. And he wasn't going to waste the effort on a cold.

But he was still concerned, and so he stayed. And stayed. And told himself that was why he was staying. Because all concern aside, and the mess with Keiko aside, Yusuke felt... content, here.

Engaging in a rare bout of self-analysis while watching Kurama doze over his books, Yusuke decided that his ego must suffer without something or someone to take care of. Since the world wasn't under his charge anymore, he focused on Kurama. Was that wrong? To use Kurama to make himself feel like he belonged somewhere? Did Kurama even need him as much as Yusuke thought he did?

_Yes,_ Yusuke decided, after watching him sleep for another moment. _He does_. Kurama had withdrawn from literally everyone after _it_ happened, even Shiori. Yusuke was the only one allowed in. Kurama wasn't catering to Yusuke's desire to be useful when he called six and seven times a day, just checking in, wanting to hear him talk for a minute, wondering if he was busy. He wasn't faking the panic attacks, either.

And he was self-destructive. There was no getting around that one.

_So much_. So much had changed. Yusuke firmly believed it was Kurama who had changed the most, not him--yes, he was more practical, but it was because Kurama was more emotional. He was calmer, but it was because Kurama had lost that calm that had been so deadly to his enemies. He was protective--well, more protective--because Kurama had lost all interest in protecting himself. Yusuke wasn't even certain if Kurama would defend himself in battle anymore, and the thought frightened him badly. The fox had lost twenty pounds from a frame that couldn't afford to lose any weight, his appearance was no longer immaculate, and there was the cutting. Kurama flatly refused to stop, saying it was what he needed to do to cope, and Yusuke didn't press the issue because he was afraid of worse things--things that Kurama might conceal from him.

_If somebody had told me this was going to be my life, I would never have believed them. _No cases, no adventures to go on; just the small and quiet details of each other's lives. No longer having to break down layer after layer of emotional walls before he could realize how much he cared, because Kurama didn't have that much time to give him. But despite the layer of sorrow that permeated their lives now... yes, content was the word.

If the loss of his friends and Kurama's subsequent breakdown had caused him to do any one thing, it was settle down. And there was something to be said for settling down.

When Kurama woke up and decided to take a shower, Yusuke waited until he heard the water running before calling Keiko. She asked if he was coming to the ramen shop tonight; he told her he couldn't. Her next question was immediate. "Are you at Kurama's?"

Yusuke saw no point in lying. "Yeah. He's sick again. I should at least make sure he eats something."

"He has a mother."

"Yeah."

"So you've decided."

"Keiko--"

"No, Yusuke, it's alright. I can tell from your voice that you have." Her tone was calm.

"Keiko... I really didn't mean to do this over the phone."

"But he needs you."

"But he needs me," Yusuke echoed in defeat.

There was silence for a moment. Then she said quietly, "I hope you're happy."

"Kei--"

"No, Yusuke, I meant that, I didn't mean it the way it sounded." She was speaking very rapidly. "I really meant it and I hope we can both be happy but I don't want to see you for awhile. I'm not mad but I need time before I can be a friend to either of you and I need--I don't know. I have to go." And before Yusuke could say anything, she hung up.

Yusuke knew exactly what she was going to do--she would go up the stairs to her room and lock the door and cry. And when she was done crying she would be angry for a few weeks, no matter what she said, and then she would want to talk to him--to them--again. And from that point on she would act as if everything was fine and Yusuke would never know when it was that she actually healed. Keiko was one person, at least, whose moves he could predict.

But she was still capable of throwing him curve balls. He hadn't realized that her anger would extend to Kurama. He probably should have; after all, to her eyes he had basically left her for Kurama... okay, maybe he _had_ basically left her for Kurama. Maybe not. In any case, he instantly resolved to shield Kurama from Keiko's anger--it didn't take much to provoke guilt in the fox these days.

So putting a lingering sense of his own guilt out of his mind, Yusuke got up and, true to his word, started making something for them to eat. There wasn't much food in the kitchen, and Yusuke was wondering a little crossly if Kurama would ever manage the art of going grocery shopping without having to be reminded when a voice interrupted him. "You don't have to stay the night, you know."

Yusuke looked up with mild surprise. "Where else would I go?"

"I don't know; your house, perhaps?" Kurama suggested wryly, wrapping a towel around his dripping hair.

"Nah. Yours is cleaner."

Kurama didn't say anything to that, but he looked away, clearly unhappy, and for the first time it occurred to Yusuke that Kurama might actually want him to leave. Which he couldn't, now; not with Kurama sick, and distraught over something to boot, even if Yusuke didn't understand why. He decided to say as much. "Look, I don't know why you don't want me here, but I won't leave until you're not sick anymore."

Kurama looked mildly surprised. "I only thought you might want some time to yourself. Particularly after the breakup."

His tone didn't quite ring true to Yusuke, but he filed that away to think about later. "Actually, I really don't want to be alone."

Kurama nodded his acceptance. Yusuke allowed himself a surreptitious sigh of relief that they wouldn't be getting into a fight. There were times that he felt less like Kurama's friend and more like his warden._Parole officer--I used to hate it when he would tease me and call me that, back when it was true. And back then I never would have dreamed of telling him what to do, and now I won't even give him control of his own home. I should go. _

But he didn't want to go. Didn't feel like he had anywhere to go to that was more home than here. And Kurama didn't bring it up again, though he remained edgy. He wasn't as good at hiding or obfuscating his emotions as he used to be; and whatever tension was in him escalated steadily throughout the night until Yusuke, feeling his own nerves react, gave him a higher dose of cold medicine than, strictly speaking, he ought to have. Not too long after that, Kurama stumbled off to bed.

Yusuke tried to concentrate on the movie that had started broadcasting, but quickly realized it was hopeless. So he let his mind wander onto the topic of _why is Kurama acting weird? _The answer came to him so quickly he must have already known--it was because of Keiko. Or rather, because of the lack of Keiko. Without someone waiting in the wings bearing the title of Yusuke's Girlfriend, the routines that Kurama and Yusuke had fallen into--the way Yusuke spent all his spare time with Kurama, the way he cooked for him and took care of him when he was sick and kept belongings in his apartment and slept in his bed--all of it suddenly seemed a little less than platonic.

And that thought kept Yusuke on the couch, watching television without listening to it, for hours after he usually would have gone to lie down next to Kurama.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

_(Flashback: three months ago)_

_It had been a bad day._

_There was no need for either of them to declare it so; they both knew it, and the understanding lay unspoken between them. The bad days just happened, sometimes with a cause you could identify but more often for no apparent reason in the world, and there was nothing for it but to survive. There was no sense of victory when a day like this was over and bed was finally obtained, just a weary melancholy. The knowledge that surviving this day did not make it any less likely that another such day would come; the vague and tenuous half-hope that tomorrow, maybe, the sorrow would have eased for awhile. It was just a bad day. _

_They lay a little closer to each other in the bed than they might have normally done. Yusuke didn't have any words of comfort to offer, and didn't think they would have been accepted if he had. They had been through this routine so often together. So he stayed close, and attentive, and silent; and when Kurama put a hand on his chest he didn't think anything of it for a minute. "There are days I wish you were still human," Kurama said quietly. "It would be reassuring to hear a heart beat."_

_"Your heart's beating," Yusuke pointed out. _

_Kurama smiled, but it wasn't the good kind of smile. "Mine doesn't count," he replied enigmatically._

_"Why do you want to hear a heart beating, anyway?"_

_"For--the sake of normalcy, I suppose. To know if I'm alive or in a dream. There are times I wonder."_

_"...Me too."_

_"You're not particularly reassuring."_

_Yusuke shifted slightly to be able to put his hand over Kurama's heart, and felt the steady beating. "We're not dreaming."_

_"I told you; mine doesn't count."_

_"Why not?"_

_There was sorrow in his voice--past guilt, past pain, and most of all past healing. Just present, ingrained, permanent. "It just doesn't."_

(Present)

"Why don't you sleep in the bed anymore?"

Yusuke jumped slightly, startled out of a half-doze. "I'm watching TV," he replied, blithely ignoring the fact that the black-and-white  
images flashing silently from the television looked nothing like what he last remembered seeing.

Kurama was standing in the doorway, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, his hair a messy halo around his head. He looked more than halfway asleep, but he spoke with clarity. "You've slept out here for three nights in a row. You never used to do that."

"Well, you're still sick as all hell. I don't want to catch it."

"When I'm sick, you lie in bed awake and watch me all night. Don't think I don't know that. And you shared a glass with me today, you're not worried about getting sick."

"So maybe I've just been falling asleep out here, alright? It's no big deal."

"If it wasn't a big deal you wouldn't have tried three different lies so far." Kurama's tone wasn't accusatory, just observational and a little big sad. He shuffled over to the couch and sat down next to Yusuke. "Tell me when you're ready to," he added, almost an afterthought, and offered him half the blanket.

Yusuke scooted closer and took it, wrapping it around both of them. "It's nothing."

"Please stop lying."

That sad, soft request pierced Yusuke with a deep stab of guilt--much worse than anything else he'd felt the past several days, hiding out in Kurama's apartment and using his illness as an excuse while Yusuke waited for the news of his and Keiko's breakup to filter through their group of friends and die down. Waited, too, for something else--something he couldn't put his finger on. It felt like somehow, he hadn't completed the choice Keiko had demanded of him. Like he was in limbo.

And he had been sleeping on the couch. It felt different, now that he was single. Not wrong--his need to be close to Kurama, to take care of him, had not slackened in the slightest. But it was different, and he wasn't sure if the difference was something he was willing to embrace. He'd thought it would be best to keep some distance--but not if it was upsetting Kurama. That wasn't going to work. "I'm sorry," he said softly.

"You don't have to lie to me." Kurama's voice was muffled, from speaking half into the blanket and half into Yusuke's shoulder. He was already making a comfortable den for himself and would no doubt soon fall asleep halfway on top of Yusuke, looking so peaceful that it would be impossible for Yusuke to move for the remainder of the night. "You can just say you don't want to talk about something. It's fine," he went on listlessly, kicking a cushion out of his way.

_It's not fine._ Ten months--ten months of all kinds of disasters, fights with each other and about each other, trying to hurt or heal, and none of it caused any barriers between them. And then this did it. They could get through suicide attempts, get through fights so bad they ended with Yusuke physically preventing Kurama from movement, terrified of his intent; they could get through the bewilderment of everyone else at being excluded from this world they had created, population two. But they couldn't get through this.

It was ridiculous. And yet he couldn't find the words to speak, to tell Kurama things were the same.

_Do I... Do I really..._

"What the hell are you watching?"

His voice was even more muffled than before; the den had been successfully made. Yusuke glanced at the television. "I really don't know... some kind of B-roll horror thing."

"Has the monster eaten Tokyo yet?"

"He's working on it. You want me to turn it off so you can sleep?"

"If I wanted to sleep I would have stayed in bed."

"You'll never shake this cold off like this."

"You know something? You're worse than my mother."

_Like you ever talk to her anymore._ "Well, someone's got to take care of you if you won't do it. You should go to sleep."

Yusuke had fully anticipated that Kurama, having arrived at a comfortable position, wouldn't move for the rest of the night. He was surprised to feel the covers fly off him as Kurama suddenly pushed himself to his feet. "I didn't know I wasn't allowed to share the couch anymore either," he muttered, starting to move away.

Yusuke snagged his wrist before he could take more than a few steps. "No, that--shit, that's not what I meant. Sit down."

"I'm tired, Yusuke, I'm going to bed."

"You're not tired, you just barely said so a minute ago. Come here."

Kurama sat--warily, it seemed to Yusuke, watching him with a level of mistrust that hadn't been there in months. "I..."

_What now?_ What was it safest to say? For that matter, what would be the truth? "I--it's just--it..."

Yusuke felt a pulse under his fingers and looked down, startled. He had not let go of Kurama's wrist yet; he had, without thinking about it, shifted his grip to be gentler and moved his thumb over the pulse point, pressing down to feel the proof of life. He used to do that at night, every night, right after _it_ had happened; calming himself after nightmares, reassuring himself that it was alright. Kurama had never woken.

Yusuke stopped struggling to find words, words that would explain the tension that had kept him out of Kurama's bed the past few nights, and just stared at his hand on Kurama's wrist. Kurama mirrored him, watching, silent. Was it this wrist that Yusuke had broken, roughhousing? Or was this the one that broke when Shiori stumbled and knocked into Kurama, and he had fallen? Yusuke couldn't remember anymore; everything about Kurama was brittle these days. Yusuke's hand shifted slightly, curling tighter around Kurama's wrist, getting a firmer touch on the pulse. Even now, even watching Kurama and knowing that he was okay, feeling that beat was immeasurably soothing. It went past conscious thought and straight to instinct. _I wonder if the fear will ever really go away?_

_For either of us_, he amended, feeling Kurama's fingers touch the pulse on his neck, lightly, ice cold. He didn't seem to be reassuring himself so much as he was simply mirroring Yusuke--the oldest method of communication, one person mirroring another until meaning was attached, a common language learned. What did it stand for, this new word that had appeared in the world that was only theirs? The world that Yusuke was increasingly coming to feel was the real one after all; everything else had been a dream, not this. This was not the world he would withdraw from when the time came, when its shelter was no longer needed; this was home, and everything else was only as important as it could be in the face of that.

_Home._ Was that the new word? The meaning behind their sitting here in silence, feeling the life beat through each other's veins. Home.

When Yusuke leaned forward Kurama did too, naturally, mirroring him. His fingers had warmed slightly against Yusuke's skin, or else Yusuke was getting used to the cold. His hand there made it harder for Yusuke to move forward enough to kiss him; harder, but not hard. Nothing had ever felt more natural.

For a few moments, that was; until Kurama suddenly pulled away, his eyes wide, one hand actually raised to cover his mouth as though he'd said something without thinking. Yusuke realized from his shocked expression that it had taken Kurama those few moments to comprehend they were actually kissing--that it had felt so natural to him, as well, that he genuinely hadn't known what they were doing.

But there was more than shock in his expression; there was guilt, which Yusuke had become highly attuned to in Kurama, and did not allow. He was following almost before Kurama had pulled away, and so they wound up pressed against the other arm of the couch when Kurama ran out of space to back up. Kurama raised his arms like he was going to push Yusuke away, but he didn't, just sat there frozen with his arms halfway crossed defensively in front of him.

Yusuke followed what he found to be the only reasonable course of action and wrapped his arms around Kurama, crossed arms and jutting elbows and all; just like he did after nightmares, after daytime terrors too, soothing him. Waiting for the fright to wear off.

After a moment Kurama's body lost some of its tension, and he turned to face Yusuke instead of looking away. His voice was so quiet Yusuke could barely make out the words. "Why did you do that?"

"Why shouldn't I?"

Kurama's gaze, uncertain before, quickly hardened into disbelief. "You just broke up with Keiko a few days ago--"

"Kurama, Keiko and I broke up a long time ago. When you and I started living like this. It's just that nobody realized it until now."

"Yusuke... don't you think it's possible that after ending the relationship you've spent half your life in, you'd turn to the person closest to you for--"

"Comfort?" Yusuke interrupted, angrily. "You think I'm rebounding? You think that's what this is?"

Kurama didn't answer, but Yusuke didn't need words to read his expression. His own anger cooled as quickly as it had flared, and he spoke calmly. "Kurama, I wouldn't do that to you. I know what I'm doing." And the strange thing was, he did--this was inevitable, it had been inevitable long before Keiko spoke, and even though an hour ago he hadn't been able to see it suddenly it was obvious. They'd been moving this way ever since _it_ happened; working their lives around each other, paying more attention to each other than to themselves, worrying about each other all day and collapsing exhausted next to each other at night. They were lovers who hadn't slept together yet, and it shouldn't have taken him so long to realize it. And Kurama shouldn't be fighting it.

_He's not really fighting it,_ Yusuke reminded himself, looking at Kurama's expression again. _He's afraid... but why?_

No simpler way to find out than to ask. "Why are you so afraid?"

Kurama only looked at him mutely. As if the answer was so obvious that even Yusuke ought to be able to figure it out. He thought for a minute. "Okay. Let me take a stab at this. You're afraid because you want this and now that it's happening you think I'm rebounding or playing along to protect you and it isn't real. Or maybe you're just worried that it'll make things different between us, even though we've been acting like lovers all along, so you'll try to push me off but you'll wind up giving in because you want this and also because let's face it, I'm pretty stubborn. Did I miss anything?"

"...No, I think that about covered it."

"So since we both know how it's going to go, why don't we just skip the whole thing?"

The look Kurama gave him was thoughtful. Not quite convinced, but no longer fearful either. Yusuke let his hand drift up to Kurama's face, gently tracing patterns on his skin--temple, cheek, jaw, neck. Finding the pulse that was beating much faster than before. "Kurama," Yusuke said quietly. Jade eyes meeting his, enigmatic, he couldn't read them. "Tell me you don't want to--tell me this doesn't feel right--and I'll stop."

His eyes closed--surrender. Like he always surrendered to Yusuke, and his voice was a sigh. "No. Don't stop." Another touch, here, skin to skin, both of them burning. Another sigh. "No."


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Well, this is the last of it. I couldn't bring it to any other conclusion. I hope you enjoy it.

Chapter Seven

_(Flashback: 2 months ago)_

_The party was raucous, as might be expected when a group of hard-fighting demons got to drinking together. There was loud quarrelling, louder laughter, and increasingly sloppily worded toasts to the relative peace the last few months had seen between the lands--for all the demons at this particular party were committed to keeping human world safe. And they were all old friends. _

_Kurama left the party early on, and if anyone noticed his departure nobody said anything; everyone understood. He stood on the deck holding a glass he was not drinking from, not really looking at anything but aware of everything around him. The only place in human world this many demons could safely gather was Genkai's land. The grave was so close. _

_It took less than five minutes--Kurama timed him--for Yusuke to thread his way out of the party and join him on the deck. "You can go back," Kurama greeted him. "I'm fine. I just don't really care for that crowd anymore."_

_"Why not?"_

_"Because they all watch me like they're getting ready to catch me the next time I keel over," Kurama replied bluntly. Yusuke smiled faintly. "I'm serious. Half of them won't even talk in front of me anymore; not that I can blame them, with the way Touya stands at my elbow and shushes people when he thinks they're about to say something that will upset me, and--"_

_"And Rinku interrupts himself every other sentence to ask if I'm okay now, and Jinn touches me way too much like he's thinking about hugging me or punching me but can't decide which would make me feel better. What makes you think I'm any more comfortable with them?"_

_"At least you didn't attempt suicide in front of most of them. They won't ever forget."_

_"So what? We'll never forget, either. They're different, we're different, life's different. Don't be mad at them for trying too hard."_

_"I never said I was mad. I said I wasn't comfortable. And that you should go back inside."_

_Yusuke made a face. "I'd rather be out here."_

_Kurama exhaled softly, tension reducing somewhat. "Do you think we can justify going home yet?"_

_"Sure. Who the hell cares what they think?"_

_But Kurama only looked out into the forest, making no move to leave, and held his untouched glass tighter. Yusuke wished they hadn't come. It had been his idea, of course--getting Kurama to socialize was next to impossible but Yusuke kept trying, no matter how many times it wound up like this. With the two of them in orbit around and outside the others; looking in and wondering if they dared spiral down. _

_They stood on the deck for a moment, silent, listening to Chuu bellowing inside and the fainter murmurs of whoever was arguing with him, and music playing somewhere--aware of everything around them, but only aware enough to know they weren't part of it. Then Kurama smiled, a half-second of warning before Yusuke found himself wearing Kurama's drink. The fox waited to make sure he was being chased before fleeing. _

_Yusuke gave pursuit gladly, grateful that Kurama had found some way to break the stillness--even if it was a sticky way. Grateful because the fox's antics had brought them quickly back into their own world, and it was becoming the only place that was safe. Yusuke chased Kurama into the forest, the two of them playing under the shelter and comfort of shadow until Kurama's strength was exhausted. Then he stretched out on his back on the forest floor and Yusuke lay next to him, watching the shifting canopy of leaves above them. They lay like that, listening to the night noises around them, palms grazing without really holding hands, for the better part of an hour. They were both silent, because when someone spoke it would have to be to suggest they go back. And neither of them wanted to go back. _

(Present)

The room was quiet, the sound on the television still turned down to next to nothing. The figures on it no longer flashed black and white, but pastel as cheerful women in business suits chirped about the morning commute; dawn was seeping in through the window. Yusuke had not slept.

Kurama was sleeping--and, as Yusuke had predicted earlier, was sleeping on top of him so Yusuke couldn't move. That suited him just fine tonight; he had plenty to think about. Kurama, on the other hand, looked like he didn't have a care in the world. He was sleeping very deeply, completely relaxed and apparently content in his dreams, for a small smile remained on his lips. He looked more peaceful than Yusuke was used to seeing him. Yusuke was suddenly overwhelmed by Kurama's trust in him.

And it didn't make sense to be overwhelmed. This wasn't some new level of trust he had tapped into here--Kurama often slept like this. Not_exactly_ like this, true, not without the barrier of clothing between them, but still close. Yusuke was amazed by how much more of Kurama's warmth he could feel without that thin layer of cloth, even now, hours and hours after the kitsune had fallen asleep. He'd thought he was already as aware of Kurama as it was possible to be--he'd thought he had every part of his trust that it was possible to have. He was wrong. There _was_ something more, a level of knowledge that simply couldn't be obtained any other way than what had happened between them last night.

Kurama had not stopped him. Not once, not even when Yusuke felt himself becoming frenzied, felt the old panic sweeping through him. Caught in the need to be close, _closer_, to hold, seize, capture. Still--always--trying to catch Kurama before he could fall, to hold him so painfully tight that he couldn't leave Yusuke, not ever. Kurama had matched his frenzy, accepted every movement he made, not complained when Yusuke knew it must have hurt, and lain completely limp against him afterwards, too exhausted to lift his head, much less his body. His entire weight was still resting against Yusuke, and it was so slight he barely noticed it--it was the heat, not the weight, that reminded him Kurama was sleeping there.

Yusuke's state of mind was a far cry from Kurama's peaceful expression. He couldn't understand. It should have been better than that; or at least, different. They should have reached for each other at the same time, without hesitation, it should have been--he couldn't put his finger on what it should have been. It had been the most amazing experience out of his life, he had felt like he was drowning in pleasure and heat and love, but what there had been of love was lacking in--lightness. Resolution. _Everything ought to be okay now._

This should have been the one thing, the magic key, that made it all go away. Not more of the same pattern over and over again, Yusuke sheltering and demanding and Kurama acquiescing without so much as a whisper, willingly giving everything to him. That was why Kurama could sleep peacefully now, and Yusuke hadn't closed his eyes yet.

Yusuke realized that in the back of his mind, he had truly believed he would someday, somehow, heal Kurama. That eventually he would be able to give enough, provide enough, and suddenly Kurama would be healthy again. And as long as their relationship hadn't progressed to this point, Yusuke could harbor that belief--that it would be the last piece of the puzzle, the catalyst for everything to be fixed. It was the only thing that Kurama hadn't given him yet. Now Yusuke had everything the fox could offer, and he couldn't afford the illusion of healing any longer.

He should have waited longer before doing this--he should have been gentler. He had relied on Kurama to stop him if it went too far, but when did Kurama ever stop him anymore? When did Kurama ever deny him anything he wanted? And there was nothing he could do about it now.

Nothing but follow through--nothing but lie here as still as stone while Kurama slept with his body shaped against Yusuke's, and dawn crept through the window. Nothing but kiss him when he woke up, make sure he ate before he left for school, answer the phone when he called and say that no, he wasn't busy. That wouldn't ever change.

None of it would. Yes, it would get better with time--Kurama would take care of himself with less prompting, hurt less when others unknowingly touched his bruises, smile more when he actually meant it. But the crux of it--that he couldn't survive without Yusuke--was something that Yusuke realized with sudden clarity would always be true. Kurama wouldn't regain his connection to the rest of the world; he had voluntarily cut it off. He had been wounded too deeply to ever completely heal, he had given everything in Yusuke's hands, and that was where his life would always be.

And finally knowing that, or rather finally accepting it... changed nothing.

Nothing. Except that Yusuke finally moved for the first time all night. He drew Kurama closer, resting one hand protectively on his back. And he spoke, knowing that the kitsune couldn't hear him but feeling that he was making a vow nonetheless. "I don't care how many times you let go," he said simply. "I won't ever do the same."

He settled back, watching sunlight slowly fill the room, and waited for Kurama to wake.

_the end_


End file.
